Inside the Minds: Randy Slade
by SpeedofInfinity
Summary: Randy Slade. He's had outstanding grades, been part of the varsity wrestling team of his high school, and was exceedingly well-liked by everyone. But, how did he turn into the boy who believed he himself was God and killed so many students in the North Valley High School massacre? Let's have a peek inside his mind to see how everything went wrong. Based on 7x04-Painless.
1. Chapter 1: Could Have's and Would Have's

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.  
**

**A/N: **Some of you have requested an epilogue for my previous story, but...I just can't. I am rather sorry, but I can't imagine a decent epilogue to Jeremy's story...On another note, I am incredibly sorry for taking so long on this new story. My computer was taken away to be fixed, and to top it all off, I was suffering a bit from writer's block. But, enough excuses and apologies. Here is Randy Slade's mind. Have a peek.

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Chapter 1: Could Have's and Would Have's

"I'm so sorry again!" Adam said, eying my swelling bruises upon my face as we walked home from school.

Gingerly touching the bruises, I winced, but smiled weakly at Adam. "Stop apologizing. I couldn't let my best friend get beaten up _again_."

Adam hung his head. "I know…And, you got detention, too! Imagine your mom…"

I shrugged and continued walking. We almost reached my house, but then, Adam began to act a bit strange, to say in the least.

"Anyways….Thank you so much, Randy. I mean it. Thanks for everything you've done for me throughout the years. I…I don't know how I would have made it this far without you. I know it was incredibly hard, as some of your more…popular friends didn't like me hanging around you so much, and I'm sorry for being such a hassle…" Adam said, looking straight at me.

"Ah, no problem, Adam! Beating up those bullies is just extra practice for wrestling, and I was glad I could stop them in time before they hurt you again…God, did you _see _your glasses that one time I wasn't there? Completely _broken_!" I said, rummaging in my pockets for my key as we walked up my driveway.

Looking back at Adam, I realized….there was this look in his eyes and his countenance that I just couldn't place. It was almost as if he was both so…_weary…_and _melancholy_ at the same time, but he did not even bother masking those raw, raw emotions…It was almost as if he was…resigned and at peace with…something.

But, no way…Even if Adam was mercilessly picked on quite often, he would _tell me_ if something was off. And, he always seemed…happy sometimes. But, no…these new emotions swirling upon his face were foreign.

Fishing my keys from my pocket, I located the right one, stuck it into the door, and twisted it open.

"Okay…So, I'll see you tomorrow, then?" I said, looking back at Adam.

Adam paused, looking incredibly guilty, and then sprung towards me, tightly wrapping his skinny arms around me.

"Uh…dude…All I did was save you…like all those other times. It's nothing!" I said, awkwardly patting him on the back.

"Thank you." Adam said finally, releasing me from his bony grip. "Honestly, you are my best friend. _Never forget that_."

"I'll see you…" Adam said before walking towards his own house down the block.

Okay…That was perhaps a bit weird. So many things seemed off. Adam was neither the emotional type nor the type to spew feelings and confessions everywhere.

For a bit longer, I struggled to figure out exactly what was going on before shrugging and entering the house. Unfortunately, Mom was waiting for me in the living room. When I walked in, she stood up and glared.

"Randy. Slade. What did I say about staying out of trouble? Detention _again_, missing homework _again, _and complaints from your teachers…_AGAIN!"_" she angrily said, crossing her arms tightly.

"I…uh….The school called you again, then?" I stammered. There was no way out. Always, once an angry parent corners you and starts furiously yelling, there is no way out without more provocations of anger.

"Of _course_ they called me, Randy! They call me _all the time_, and this time….I-I've just about _had it with you_."

"But….But, Mom! _Mom…"_ I started to say, only to be cut off by her shrill screams. "Don't you even say _another word_. I know Adam is your best friend and it's not fair that he gets picked on so often, but please..._please_ try to stay out of trouble."

Finally, she seemed to deflate as all the anger seemed to slowly disappear, only to be replaced with a certain weariness and frustration. That's my mom there….She never _could_ stay angry for long.

Mom uncrossed her arms and sighed. "I mean…You're a smart boy…._my _boy…but you _could have _succeeded _so much more_ and _would have_ almost achieved…..I don't know…._perfection_ if you just applied yourself more in school…life…and actually paid attention to everything around you.

"But, Mom!" I protested. "What does this have to do with detention? And, it's absolutely not Adam's fault he gets bullied so much! Besides, I _do _get good grades. It's not like I'm _failing _or anything!"

Mom sighed once more. "I'm…._sorry_, Randy. But, I really would have just wished that if you stopped messing around…with all those girls, stopped getting into fights, and especially started paying more attention in, well…everything, then you could have just been…great…_perfect…_almost even, excuse my words, _God-like_. I just want you to succeed. Is that too much for your mom to ask from you?"

And with that, she exited the room, leaving my mind in complete confusion. It was just so like her to expect me and to hold me to such high expectations and to want everything to be _perfect._ I can't be perfect. Or at least, I don't really _want _to be perfect. Perfect's _boring._ Being perfect means having _no flaws._ Flaws are exciting. They really bring out a certain depth in people.

It makes them more human.

Trudging out of the living room and into my room upstairs, I was about to chuck my backpack across the room until I noticed Brandon, my younger brother silently reading in the corner of my room.

Brandon was only seven, and true to his age, his bright energy and smiles never ceased to lighten my mood or bring a smile to my face.

"Randy!" he shouted, standing up and running towards me.

"Hello, Kiddo." I said, pulling him into a hug. "How was school today?"

"Good!" he said. "I caught a few bugs at recess today. How was your school?"

"I….It's a long story, Brandon." I said, walking towards the bed and sitting down among my blankets. Brandon followed and sat next to me as his short legs dangled off the side of the bed.

"Tell me!" he earnestly pleaded.

And, I told him.

Why?

Because.

There's just something in little kids that makes it so easy for you to tell them everything. Perhaps it's their innocence. They're not judgmental like the kids I hang around at school.

You talk. They listen….and sometimes interrupt. But, still.

They listen.

Sometimes, all you need is someone to listen to you.

And, Brandon listened.

He listened and laughed as I told him what pranks kids pulled in class. He listened quietly as I told him about Adam and interrupted only once to ask if I was all right as he eyed my swelling face. And, he listened well as I told him about Mom…and what she said…

"Now, I don't know, Brandon." I said. "It's all so…_stupid._ She can't tell me that I have to do _better_ if what I'm doing is _great_ to me already."

Brandon's eyebrows furrowed together as he listened.

"Maybe Mom was just trying to make you see…what you could do to make her _more _proud?" Brandon suggested.

"Maybe…but it's not _easy._ It's too much _effort._" I said, growing increasingly frustrated.

"Nothing's easy." Brandon said solemnly. "Not even making it to level twenty-three on Tetris. But that doesn't mean you don't _try._"

At that, I smiled and tousled his hair.

"Thanks, buddy."

After that, Brandon left to go grab a snack, but I was still thinking about _everything._

_You could have done so much more…been so much more if you would have only applied yourself more and paid more attention in life…_Mom's furious words echoed in my mind.

Could I really do more with myself? I mean…I already have great grades, made the varsity wrestling team, and I didn't lose myself in all of that. But, still. Are there greater things I could have achieved if I would have _tried _harder?

What Mom was asking for was impossible.

She wanted _perfection._

From _me._

Could I achieve it?

Should I try to achieve it?

Would I even achieve it?

However, my thoughts were quickly interrupted by a series of what sounded like gunfire around the neighborhood. Startled, my heartbeat began to race a bit.

_God, I hope whoever was around there was all right and hopefully…alive._


	2. Chapter 2: The Stressor

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

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Chapter 2: Stressor

The next morning, I woke up ready to tell Mom that I would….think about _maybe_ trying harder. That would please her for the moment. All changed when I confronted her waiting downstairs.

Her daily cup of coffee was untouched and she looked as if she had been crying. Used, dirty tissues littered the kitchen countertops. When she saw me, she spoke with a trembling voice.

"Randy…Oh my God…Something….Something _terrible _has happened_." _Mom said, wiping at her red eyes and attempting to compose herself.

"What has?" I asked, not really sure what she would say.

"It's _Adam._" She said, crossing her arms and hugging herself tightly.

"He….He's _dead._" She said before bursting into tears.

What….._What?_

"No." I said solemnly. "You're _wrong._ I just saw him…._yesterday._ HOW CAN HE BE DEAD?"

Mom sniffled and attempted to speak. "H-He….He _k-killed_ _himself_."

"No." I said as the panic started setting in.

"No."

"_Yes!"_ Mom continued tearfully. "It was y-yesterday! The cops s-said that he…_shot himself_…His mom said…..Oh, his _parents_! Imagine them…." And with that, she grabbed the Kleenex box near her and buried her face into the white tissues and sobbed miserably.

No.

No…

No!

NO!

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!

With that, I promptly ran out of the kitchen, escaped to my room, and locked the door shut. Finally, I sank to the floor, shocked and emotionally numb.

HE COULDN'T HAVE.

How….how could this _be_? Adam _can't_ be dead! I…We talked yesterday! We walked to school together. I just _saved _him yesterday! No...How could he do this? Why would he do this? He….he smiled yesterday! We laughed together yesterday! I thought he was….he was…happy yesterday. How could he kill himself? But….why?

HE SHOULDN'T HAVE.

But then, the most horrible questions came to light.

Why didn't he tell me?

Could I have saved him, then?

What type of a friend have I been, then?

I just wish I could have been more there for him.

I guess…I guess, it is always sad when you must refer to a person in past tense, as if it's almost like you've forgotten them or you aren't associated with them any longer. Because before, I would have said Adam is my friend.

Now….

Now, _apparently_, he _was _my friend.

And, that doesn't make any sense. We were still friends….childhood friends…_best_ friends until he…you know…What my point is, is that death shouldn't have to tear you from whoever you lost.

_Adam._

He _is _my best friend.

Not even death can change that, I swear to God.

OoOoOo

The service was held on the following weekend, and it was a quiet, small affair. I was the only one from school who came, and though I tried to get some of my friends to come, most of them such as Natalie and Steve declined, as it would ruin their reputation, while few others like Brad offered their sympathies, but stayed away.

I watched as his parents stepped up and somehow managed to say a few things about their son between choked gasps and uncontrollable sobbing. Would they ever recover from that missing person in their lives?

You never expect depression from happy people. That's why you don't realize something's wrong with them until they're gone, and when they're gone, well….it's too late.

But, Adam, looking back now, wasn't happy. I thought he was at least a bit content with life, and I guess sometimes, you see what you _want_ to see. Wouldn't you rather see bright smiles rather than pensive frowns? But now, I see that his forced grins and strained laughter were only a mask that hid his true miserableness and pain inside.

It all made sense now.

That weird, calm countenance upon Adam's face during the last moments I saw him made sense. He…he, at that time, probably already decided on and came to terms with what he would do to himself. Was he scared? Was he scared _at all_? Or, was this life so _terrible_ for him that he would rather face _death?_

You know…I wish...I just wish that I could control life and death…maybe bring back some people who didn't have to die…and bring back Adam to tell him exactly how sorry I am…

Would that have helped?

And, being God must be great…He's up there somewhere, looking down upon us, and only _he_ gets to decide who lives and who dies. What a tremendous amount of power for an entity to have.

He could've saved Adam. He could've sent him some happiness, something to live for, and some hope.

He _could _have saved Adam. I don't know, but he _could_ have.

And he _did_ not.

The rest of the funeral was a blur, but soon, it was time for Adam to be buried. I couldn't even see his bony self one last time, as the casket cradling him was shut. His parents probably thought that the hole in his head would be too horrifying for some people to see.

Then, as his body was lowered into the ground, I felt waves of tears threaten to crash down my face, and I made a solemn vow to him before fully breaking down and sobbing as if nobody in the entire world could see me.

_I would pay attention more…in school…life…and I would strive to be absolutely perfect._

_For Adam._

OoOoOo

The next day, Mom made our whole family go attend the Sunday mass at our church to pray over Adam. I mean, we were never the really religious type, but we still went now and then and on the important holy days. Before, though, I would zone out and not really listen to anything, but now, I would try to pay attention to _everything._ Now, our priest was giving his homily, and I had focused all my attention on him and what he was preaching.

"Now, everyday we walk outside…we see many things. We see children playing, adults shopping, and the elders strolling around with big smiles upon their faces. But…there are others out there, too, who need help. There are the homeless, the disabled, and the struggling, tormented souls…But do we choose to ignore them and only see the good in life?" the priest said, looking into the congregation intently.

I guess…this homily was all right, but what the priest said next truly gripped my full attention.

"So, when we see these people…these broken people, it is our duty as the children of God to help them make it through this world before their time is over and they are judged in the name of God. Let us take it upon ourselves to act kinder, to be more giving, and just a bit more…_like_ God…He is in all of us, and is with us, but have we truly acted like He would have?"

Then, he rambled on and on, but my mind instantly perked up and I began to ponder upon his words…I already made up my mind that I would strive to achieve perfection and God-like success, but now, after this…after _this…_

Well, the whole point of Mom's lecture was to make me strive to be _better_ than the best and completely _break_ the limits of myself. So, since I got A's but some A minuses, I would have to get rid of those minuses and replace them with pluses. Since I made the varsity wrestling team, I would now have to try and become the captain of it.

The priest said to be God-like….so now I would have to _become_ God.

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**A/N:** So, hopefully I justified Randy's thoughts properly, and I absolutely meant _no disrespect_ to Christianity and its denominations.


	3. Chapter 3: Revelations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

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Chapter 3: Revelations:

Now the only question is…could I be _God_?

Could I save people before they end up like _Adam?_

This seed was deeply planted into my mind, and its growing roots had quickly imbedded themselves within my tumultuous thoughts.

_Could I be God?_

If anything, it would not be said that I didn't try.

During the next few days and weeks, I tried to assist others in whatever way I could to fulfill my promise and status. As I walked back and forth from school, I now grabbed a few extra snacks and water bottles to give to passing homeless people. On some weekends, I would then volunteer at soup kitchens, animal shelters, and orphanages instead of hanging out at friends' houses. My friends questioned if I was okay or not, though a few girls did come up to me and thought it was sweet that I was helping the "poor people," as they put it.

…_Whatever._

But how was I any different than the missionaries and kindhearted volunteers from our church now?

How was this God-like?

Nonetheless, I continued this new behavior anyways, and started to apply myself more in school as well. I left my seat from the back row in the classrooms, effectively abandoning my leering friends messing around in the back, and moved towards the front row. And, for the first time in a few years, I paid attention. I tried not to zone out, I questioned the teacher if I could not understand anything, and I immersed myself in my studies on the weekend, cancelling parties and meet-ups with angered friends in order to do so.

_Since when did you start being such a goody-two shows?_ They wondered angrily, unwilling to accept my new, improved behavior. I guess the only reason why I remained unperturbed at their comments was because I had realized that they were all so…_inferior_ to my true purpose.

But, the results of the friends and hedonistic parties rejected paid off. I had accumulated the most hours of service…more than any other person in my school, thus getting some service award. Teachers, too, disbelievingly handed me back quizzes, tests, and essays that I had worked so hard on.

_You're improving! Stellar! Good job! _They excitedly wrote, happy that their troublesome student was applying himself more.

But, one comment simply…implanted itself in my mind and sparked something. My English teacher had given back our recent essays, and at the very top of the corner, she wrote _that one comment_ that sparked my realization.

_Well done. Simply Perfect! Almost…God-like! _

Almost God-like…

_Almost God-like._

_God-like._

God-like.

I was _almost _there.

_Almost God…_

OoOoOo

Mom did notice this change in my behavior and was overly pleased and proud of me. Before, she would regard me with such a tired and exasperated air, but now! She smiled more when I was around and hugged me whenever she felt like it.

Before, when people would ask if I was her son, she would simply reply with a simple yes, and that would be the end of it.

But now, when people would ask, she would enthusiastically say yes, and go on to rave about how well I've been doing.

_Yes! That's my son… my baby! Don't you see how tall he's gotten? And how great he's been doing? _

"Randy!" she would say. "Thank you for _listening. _Don't you see how well you're doing? Simple perfect, Randy…I'm so _proud _of you."

But, no matter how proud Mom was of me, it still wasn't enough.

I wasn't God yet.

I was _almost God_.

Would I ever even get there?

I found that answer in one of the most unlikely places: My school's wrestling finals.

True to my promise, I had been made captain of our school's varsity wrestling team, and tortured our team with endless practice and agonizing exercises. The practice paid off though, despite the whole team moaning and complaining of stiff muscles after every practice.

We had made it to the finals, and the only thing that was standing in the way of the championship and ultimate glory was our rival school. For years and years, it was only ever them and us.

The North Valley High School and the South Valley High School.

Our school had lost three years in a row now, and this was the year to win. Everyone wanted it, and now it was time to take what we craved.

Victory.

Triumph.

_Glory_.

However, when the tournament began, our school was doing fairly well, but towards the end of the tournament, we were losing by two points. My match was last, as captain and all, but I needed to win.

So, when I moved into position in the ring, my eyes locked against my opponents, and when the bell rang, we snapped into action.

Immediately, my opponent tried a takedown, but to my dismay, he was stronger than he looked. No matter, though. I thrashed against him using not only physical strength but also willpower to try and break free.

My muscles strained under my opponent, and I forced myself to try and get up from the mat.

Sure enough, to everyone's surprise, I somehow was able to not only break free, but execute a nice reversal as well. Exerting agonizing tension and strength, I forced my opponent down where I had once lain.

This is what I trained so hard for.

This is why I had overly exerted my team.

This is why we…_I_ would win.

This is what I had emphasized during practice…That ability to keep on going and give it everything inside of you even if you're tired and it seems like you're losing.

Willpower.

My opponent struggled against me, determined to break free before I would win as I executed that perfect reversal and takedown. But, I struggled against him, forcing him to remain pinned down on the floor. That feeling, though…That feeling when you completely control a human being's movements….

It felt absolutely great, and I loved watching him struggle against me with the knowledge that this match, this end game, would only lead in his defeat and my great success.

In a few moments, it was over.

I had won.

And then, I stood, chest heaving, insanely triumphant as the entire school erupted into cheers and screaming, feeling exceedingly beyond proud of myself as I watched my opponent remain on the floor, angrily pounding at the ground, frustrated at his defeat, to my amusement. Winning feels so nice.

It had only taken one victory over another human being, and instantly, everything clicked, and my mind had won. And, in that _glorious moment_ amidst all those cheering and blinding camera lights, oh! Oh! OH!

I felt it.

I felt _it._

I felt, through this single win, that glorious feeling of _human adoration…triumph…power…perfection…_

God.

_God._

That's what I felt like…

I. Felt. Like. _God._

In this single moment alone, I felt just…simply power over these adoring people, and such magnificent _glory._ It was as if I could do _anything…_

And, as the lines between _reality_ and _delusion_ in my mind instantly blurred and distorted, I knew what I had become in that moment. I finally knew the truth now.

I. Am. _God_.

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A/N: I don't think I really portrayed his descent into delusion well enough, and I am pretty sure his wrestling match was absolutely technically wrong, as I do not wrestle or know the rules of wrestling, so I do apologize for that.


	4. Chapter 4: Decisions

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

**WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone. **

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Chapter 4: Decisions

I am God.

That, I know now, and that sense of accomplishment…and that feeling of being _somebody_ people worship…was magnificent. I'm pretty sure not many people can say that they _are God._

I am God.

My "friends" now have all abandoned me, claiming that I was different and that I had changed. They were right. My metamorphosis from a troublesome kid into the greatest entity had certainly been an inspiring change.

I am _God_.

But, what should I do as God, now? That remains to be the question. I could do _anything_. But, when so much _power_ and _capability_ is given, what do you do with it? What type of God should I be? There were a few options. I could heal people's physical and mental suffering. I could feed the starving people who hungered for not only food, but also thirsted for kindness, hope, and love. Or, I could help government leaders help unite the world or help lead wars when our country was provoked and attacked.

The Healer.

The Compassionate.

The Avenging Leader.

Which God am I?

I thought and thought and thought about this incredibly thoroughly, as all three types of Gods could serve society and its people well enough. On the weekend, though, I ambled down to an old tree house Adam and I built when we were younger. We don't really hang out there any longer, as it could only fit one of us and not two like before.

Adam.

I hope he's resting well.

To try and relive old memories and to provide a quiet place to think a bit more, I began climbing on the decayed wood, noticing the rusty nails and the peeling paint. It had been such a _long_ time since I've last been here. Finally, I reached the house and clambered inside, sitting down upon the dirty floor.

Besides me, I found old toys Adam and I used to play with…Swords, capes, and toy cars. But, something wasn't right. There was this red car that had never been there before.

You see, when I first met Adam, he had moved in the neighborhood, and my mom had told me to go talk to him and play with him. So, I brought that same exact red car to show him, and met that scrawny kid with glasses nearby.

He was a timid boy back then, and had remarked that he had never had a red car. He had blues and greens, but never red. So, I gave him mine, and that red car has been sitting on his desk in his room ever since.

But, what was it doing here?

I grabbed it, and carefully folded papers were sticking out from the bottom. Slowly pulling them out, I opened them up and smoothed their wrinkles.

And, when I read it, my heart stopped and this unbelievable wave of pain and remembering crashed upon me. They say the written word can have such a profound effect on one's mind and emotions. Now, I would never deny that statement.

Because inside one of those papers was _Adam's note._

His thinly cramped and spidery penmanship was unmistakable, and it made sense. The police had never found his note, which had upset his parents, few other friends, and _me._ At least, wouldn't you want to know _why_ a person had killed himself or herself? Wouldn't it give them a bit of peace or just make it worse?

Nonetheless, with shaking hands grasping the paper, I began to read.

_Randy. By the time you even get this…I don't know if it will be in a few days or a few years, I will have already killed myself. I will have been dead for a bit. Dead. It's so hard when you're alive to picture yourself dead isn't it? Anyways, this is my note. And, I am so sorry for leaving you behind, but it's all right. I'm in a better place now, hopefully. I bet you're wondering why I did it. Why I killed myself. (God, it's so hard writing about yourself in past tense when you're still present.) Well, Randy, you know those popular, snobby people you've hung around with and call "friends?" I don't think you noticed, but they have bothered me a lot more than you think or have seen. _

_Thankfully, you have saved me from most of their physical oppression from them, but you were not able to stop the mental oppression. Bruises, cuts, and scrapes, though there were not many of them thanks to you, can heal. But, the wounds of the mind could never heal when they are cut in so deep. _

_Bastard. Weakling. Scum. Filth. Dirt bag. _These are some of the more….toned down names they called me.

_You're too stupid to live. The school should really make a policy about letting in such scum come to school. Why does Randy even hang out with you? I hope that when you come home tonight, you cut yourself, and with ever slash you make on your wrist, remember what we've said to you. Just die. You're not worth it. Just. Die. _These were some of the things they told me.

_At first, I could take it, you know. Sticks and stones and all of that. But, when you hear something repeated to you for all these long, long years….well…you start believing them even if they aren't true. And when you believe such things…hell is literally on earth and you question everything. The only thing that kept me here for so long was you and my parents. _

_Otherwise, I would be long gone. _

_And now I'm gone, and I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry._

_In the end, you will never, ever understand the interminable depths of my gratitude towards you. I owe you so much, I still don't know why we're best friends, and I am incredibly sorry for being such a burden to you. Getting into fights in my stead is painful, I know. And for that, I'm sorry. _

_And, I'm sorry for the biggest thing I will have done to you. _

_I'm sorry for killing myself. I just could not take it any more, Randy. I was getting so…so…soo…tired. So tired. Weary. _

_But now, I am at peace. _

_I'm sorry, though, old friend. I'm sorry we never got the chance to go to college together…to see each other married to interesting people later…to grow old together…and I am especially sorry that I could not adventure through life with you. I ask, though, that you remember me, and I will be waiting somewhere, whether it be hell or heaven, for you when your time comes. Do something great with your life, Randy. Be somebody that I couldn't be. _

_I am sorry, and I hope to see you in the future sometime, but it's okay. Just because I've given up doesn't mean you have to later._

I grasped the paper tightly after reading it, as if I was holding on to it for dear life. A certain numbness completely took over my body, shutting down any proper, functional thought.

I…I didn't know what to _feel_…what to _think…_

It's only been a few weeks, a month at best, since Adam was gone, and to suddenly relive echoes of his memory and thoughts was so incredibly painful. This pain dug deeper and imbedded itself within me, and soon, I found my eyes wet once again.

How heartbreaking was it to know that even if you tried all you could to stop it, your friend was still being relentlessly and brutally tormented? And exactly how guilty do you think I felt in that moment when he named _my friends_ as his primary oppressors?

I sat there.

I just sat there.

It hurts to remember.

For the longest time, I sat in silence, mourning once again as Adam's death felt fresh in my mind.

Sometimes…I think you can try all you can to protect someone from the cruelty of this world, but still, they get so hurt and banged up inside and outside. The worst part is…you can't do anything about that.

But, there was another piece of paper. The one under his note. What was it? I gently placed Adam's note beside me and began to read his second.

_Randy…Just in case you wanted to know which friends were the ones that tortured people like me. If you can, make sure they can't pick on anyone else. I don't want people to end up like me. Depressed and Dead. Here:_

_Natalie Gallo_

_Brad Smith_

_Allison Humwald_

_Jay O'Brien_

_Steve Tossell_

_Tucker Cranwell_

_Janine Bergen_

_Jerry Holtz_

_Tiffany Gleason…_

As I scanned the list, watching name after name after name pass by, I couldn't believe it. These were all my friends. Adam had named _all_ my friends.

But how could quiet Natalie be vicious? And how could sympathetic Brad be cruel? How could every single one of my friends be this brutal? Humanity is so flawed…and it has such a dark, beastly side to it… We are given life, but in the end, we would only destroy lives.

Now came my fears…Did this mean that _I…_was like them? Did _I_ pick on others and laughed in their misery? If my friends did, I must have done so, too. Sickened with myself, my gloominess ceased abruptly and was replaced by the unmistakable feeling of raw wrath and fury.

But, I am God. I can repent for my sins easily. But, my former "friends" need to pay for their sins and what they did to Adam. And, in that space of time, I had already mentally decided what type of God I would be.

I would be the God of Vengeance.

I would avenge Adam with fire and blood and make everyone on that list pay. It was time for the end of the world…the end of time itself, and it was time for my friends to be judged. And, let me assure you, for Adam's sake, none of them were ever reaching the clouds above because if I were judging…well…there would only be one place suitable for them: Hell.

And now, I get it. Adam gave me that list of names. Perhaps he knew or had suspicions that I was God. Now, it was my duty to avenge him by taking out those names…people on that list. It's just the least I could do for him, and I would do absolutely all I can to ensure that this vengeful God would do exactly that.


	5. Chapter 5: Plans

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

**WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone.**

* * *

Chapter 5: Plans

Unfortunately, it seems that the people named were not the only pathetically corrupt people at my school and in the world.

But when you're angry at the world, you see all the terrible, corrupt things around. I purposely strolled around my earth looking for signs that humanity was still good somewhere. However, in my town, I watched, disgusted with the human race as people stealthily stole from others, violently pushed past old people on the bus to get a good seat, and even mugged others.

At this point, I had to intervene. So, I just forcefully interfered with the mugging. In the end, I got a few bruises, which is nothing compared to wrestling practice, but the person getting mugged was all right.

But the worst part of it was? My school was so much more corrupt than those ordinary civilians. While thieves stole, muggers mugged, and the mean-hearted existed malevolently, the people at my school hurt other people mentally as well as physically.

It's always the mental pain that scars everyone so much more than physical pain ever could. Bruises heal. Scratches heal. The wounds of the mind, though not noticeable if hidden nicely, scar and damage a person in ways that could never possibly be reversible.

And, I, as God, was supposed to save humanity? I was to save the pure of heart, oppressed, and innocents all from corruption and people like my peers?

Saved…

Saved.

Were humans past the point of saving? I think so. I think it was time for the end of time itself to come and judgment day to arrive. The only thing was…how was I going to incite incredible fear in the rest of the students and end them all? The only answer, bad as it was, had to be through mass bloodshed and terror.

In the end, that's the only way people will notice and learn.

It takes death and pain to finally startle people enough so they can open their oblivious eyes to all the evil inside them and around them.

Why don't I start by killing off a few, you know…picking off some people with a couple of bullets? I would mentally judge them in my mind and then decide if they were worthy enough to live or die.

But, wait…I am God. Why don't I just reveal myself to them all, and if they can look into my eyes or even at me without bursting in flames like mortals who happened to gaze upon Greek Gods, then…I guess they would be saved. Because then, _I would not be God_.

But, I am God, so I have nothing to worry about… When I reveal myself to them and unleash my true, brilliant form, people and mere mortals wouldn't even be able to look at me. Huh. It would be weird judging people who wouldn't even look at you.

And after I finish, or unless some external pressure like…oh I don't know…the cops or SWAT team rush in and force me to go through my plans quicker, I would blow this whole school up.

This. Whole. _Damn_ed. School.

I want to see this stupid school, tainted with the hideously horrid actions of everyone in it, blow up and go down in flames as shrieks and cries of pain and suffering echo throughout the burning buildings.

And me? I see it now…After killing these useless beings, I would not die, but rather be enveloped in a brilliant white light and graciously welcomed back into heaven, my rightful home.

I know it's not Godly to kill so many, but when has other people's Gods ever intervened when wars were raging around them and millions of people died? Not doing anything about these type of situations is the same as killing them all. I plan to act, so I will judge them, kill them, and then send them off to their cruel fate after their bodies fall to the ground, dead. And hopefully, after killing them off, their corruption and immorality would be wiped away and people like Adam would not have to suffer as much.

There was only one problem.

Where do I get the materials needed for this grand event?

I guess I could "borrow" my dad's M9 Beretta to use for that day, but where would I get that bomb? That would be complicated. I highly doubt that I could just walk into some government facility and casually take some or even order some on the Internet.

I found my answer smoking something illegal in our school's parking lot at lunch.

Wrinkling my nose in disgust at him, I walked past him without a second thought, until I heard what he said to someone on the other side of his phone.

"_Okay_, Dad! I'll see you after detention today. Yeah…I got another one. Sorry. But, hey! Aren't you blowing up that old building today? It was about time it went down. Cool…Cool…Okay. Bye."

After he hung up, he continued smoking whatever it was. I stood, staring at him, and judging whether or not I should ask.

I was pretty sure this guy was in my class, as I vaguely remembered seeing him in the back of some of my classes frequently dozing off. His hair was messy, as if he hadn't bothered to brush it in a long time, and he wore all black clothing, except for a few bold, red words scrawled on his t-shirt, displayed, as his jacket swung open when he leaned upon somebody's car for support.

CHAOS. DISORDER. COMMOTION., his shirt read.

I should ask him. Basically, his image screamed not only bad boy, but also trouble-seeking anarchist. And, I knew exactly how to speak to _those_ types of people, as a few of my…_previous_ friends had that same attitude towards life, though they looked a bit more…normal and actually wore other colors other than black.

Pretty straightforward, direct, and to the point. There is no sense in avoiding the topic.

"Hey. Randy Slade. Nice to meet you! Say, would you like to see this school burn down in fire and blood?"

He seemed taken aback. Well, of course. That's not an easy way to introduce yourself. Of course he's going to freak out a bit.

"I…uh…I'm Lewis Ramsey. And…what?"

"Look at you…standing out here by yourself…smoking…probably something prohibited at school…Wouldn't you like to be part of something bigger? Wouldn't you like to help me end this school and those idiots inside?" I asked.

"Are you serious? This school? Do you know how much trouble we'd be in?" he whispered furiously, looking around to see if eavesdropping teachers or students were near by.

"Who cares. We'll be literally gone before we can get into any trouble." I lazily said.

Lies. I would ascend into heaven, but Lewis would probably be dead and gone after the bomb goes off.

"Okay…You're just weird…You _really_ want to see this school go?" he asked disbelievingly, shaking his head.

I couldn't believe it. I _thought_ he craved, what was it…_chaos, disorder, _and_ commotion_. Why was he objecting now? Now, my patience was wearing thin. I was talking to lowly scum, different than my peers, but all the same. He smoked. He probably did drugs. Why was I wasting my time with him?

"Yes, I do… I. Am. Absolutely. Serious. But, aren't there any…people you'd like to see _gone?_ I can make that happen if you help. You don't even have to do anything…Just supply me with what I need."

Psh. I didn't want him to steal my glory for himself. He would only give me the supplies needed to create that bomb, and that would be it. I guess I could squeeze in some more victims, but I couldn't kill them if they were innocent.

"You mean…like a list of names or something? Of course I have one of _those._ Who doesn't? I guess…oh, all right. What could I possibly have that you could need to do what you want?"

A crazed grin stretched across my face, lazily distorting my features a bit. People walking by would probably think I was in need of mental health. Insane, they would think. So. Insane.

But, I'm not.

Because I am God.

God's not insane…

"I want…some of those explosives your father is using." I said.

"WHAT?" Lewis yelled. "I could _literally_ get in trouble…not just with my dad, but with the _law_, too….You do realize I have to _steal_ what you want? I can't just go waltzing into his construction site and politely ask for some!"

Ugh. Too much whining….Let's see if I can persuade him any further.

"The school's going down. And, you're going to just give me the things to bring it down. Isn't that great? Oh yes…If you want your listed enemies to fall, then you're going to have to steal some for me." I said, menacingly moving closer, trying to look dangerously intimidating. For a varsity wrestler, it's not that hard, and Lewis took one look at my gaze and averted his eyes.

Silence. I glared on. Lewis continued looking down, as if weighing the pros and cons of stealing what I desperately needed. Finally, he broke.

"…Fine. But, I want to see _all_ the names I'm going to give you…_gone_ after this stupid school goes down." he snarled.

"Great! When can you get it?" I asked, abruptly shifting my countenance from ominously threatening to amiably content.

He glared. "It's going to be hard…They use this thing called SEMTEX to blow up old buildings before constructing new ones….I can probably visit my dad today and try to see if I can snatch some….Are you sure you can even _build_ a bomb using this stuff?"

"I can always _try."_ I said, still smiling.

"…Whatever. Just don't blow yourself up." He sighed as he pulled a crumpled receipt out of his pocket. Grabbing a pen from his pocket, he scribbled on the back of the paper, paused for a few moments, and then continued until thrusting the list into my chest.

I plucked it up and smoothed it out. "This is your list, then?" I calmly asked, looking back at him.

Lewis nodded. "I'm going down to my dad's construction site for…you know…But, you _better_ make these names disappear from this earth."

I waved him off, and he scowled at me again before stalking off and looking for his car.

Well, that solves the bomb issue. I guess some really sketchy Internet sites could show me how to build a bomb, so that shouldn't be a problem. You can find anything on the Internet. All you have to do is know _where_ to look and _how_ to look.

I scanned Lewis' list of names. I recognized the names, and realized that they were all druggies, early alcoholics, and teen parents. Well. Time to get rid of those people as well. My earth could do with less of these types, too.

I waited in the parking lot for about three and a half more hours until Lewis shakily walked back, holding pieces of cloth wrapped around something.

When he saw me, he quickly looked over his shoulder, then shoved my package into my arms. "I don't want _anything_ to do with this….so just take it, and go make whatever-the-hell your plan is happen." With that, he all but practically ran off back to his car and sped off.

Pleased, I started to walk back home…But something sank in, and a wave of a sudden epiphany struck me. When Lewis begrudgingly handed me a stolen block of SEMTEX like he promised and scurried off, almost everything was in place.

I was really going to do this.

I was going to blow up my school with this SEMTEX.

I was going to kill people and root out the sources of torment and corruption in my school.

Oh, destiny! This must be destiny! This must be my purpose in this mortal body before I rip off this vessel and show off my godly form.

Oh…purpose…sweet purpose! How pleasant is that feeling? To know you have been working on your purpose? To feel that you've done something for this world? To feel…accomplished?

Oh, yes. I would be fulfilling my purpose and cleansing part of the world of one of the most corrupt humans on the face of the earth. My classmates. And, when I'm done, I would ascend into heaven in brilliant white light, and angels would be waiting for me there, opening the gates of heaven, welcoming me home…

And, all would be well. I would take my rightful place as God in heaven and look after the earth and judge more people. This time, though, _this_ God would interfere with the suffering like Adam and actually do something about it.

And that night, with my SEMTEX safely tucked away behind my desk, I dreamed of white figures dancing around angels in a place far above the clouds and beyond human comprehension.

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A/N: I am rather dissatisfied with this chapter, which is why it took so long for an update, and I am terribly sorry about that...On another note, though I am not fond of self-promotion, if you liked and enjoyed my previous story about Jeremy Sayer, could you perhaps please nominate me at the Profiler's Choice CM Awards? I would really appreciate it!


	6. Chapter 6: Practice

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

**WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone.**

* * *

Chapter Six: Practice

Let's go over this. I was going to judge people based on what they have done in life and decide to keep them alive or send them to where they truly belonged. Then, I would reveal myself as God and blow this whole this whole damned school to pieces, thusly sending me back home.

If I could aim…If I could shoot….If I had a gun….then I could _kill them all_.

I technically had a gun, if my dad's "borrowed" one counts, but I had never shot one or even used one before. I suppose now was the time to go look for places to not only teach me how to shoot and accurately aim, but also places to practice.

There was this old shooting range down in the… _sketchier_ places of town. People would walk in, bring whatever guns, practice a bit, learn if they're beginners, and no questions would be asked. You didn't even need any form of identification to make sure you were eighteen or older. As I was seventeen and not quite eighteen yet, this was _perfect_.

So, I decided to go after school one Friday by myself. That morning, though, I woke up extra early to try and locate Dad's handgun. He insisted that he kept it only for security and protection, but he hardly ever used it or even took it out. I wonder if he actually knows how to use it.

Let's see…Dad usually keeps some of his more private stuff in his office. So, I tiptoed upstairs and cautiously opened the door, relieved when it opened without a creak. Inside, his desk was meticulously organized, as loose papers were neatly stacked and not single item was out of place.

Perhaps it would be easy to find it. If the search took too long, then, well…I would be in trouble. Currently, Dad was on a business trip, like always, so the only person I had to worry about angering in this moment was _Mom._ If she found that I had tried to take a _gun_, then she would probably fly into a frenzied fury and worry that I've gone back to my old, uncaring ways.

Oh, well.

Back to the search. Dad is paranoid. He probably wouldn't keep the gun in a place that was probably hard to access. It would probably be hiding in a place hidden well enough so people like Brandon wouldn't accidentally pick it up, but still in a place that could be easily retrieved in times of potential danger.

I looked in some of Dad's potted plants and behind some of his desks and bulky lamps. It wasn't there. As frustrating began to build up within me as the minutes passed by with no sight of the gun, I began to pace back and forth. Mom would be getting up soon, and I do not think that she would especially like to find her son searching for a weapon.

It turns out, five minutes later that I forgot to look in the most _obvious_ spot. I opened his desk drawers one by one until I found what I was looking for in the bottom drawer.

There it was.

_There it was…_

My Dad's handgun rested among a bed of random papers, slightly dusty, but still probably usable. Next to it laid a box of shiny bullets. I reached for the gun, my fingers shaking for an unclear reason, and I picked it up.

It felt _so right_ in my hands, as its grip molded nicely with the palm of my hands. And suddenly, I was very aware of the power I possessed in my hand.

Unlike me, whose vast, Godly power dominated the earth, the mortals wielded _these_ types of earthly weapons. It was simple, small, but yet commanded a certain sense of terrible power.

OoOoOo

When I finally made it to school later, with the gun stashed into my backpack, I strutted through the halls assertively, looking upon the faces of the damned. I especially sneered at the ones named in Adam's list and looked down upon other scum.

A new face.

_You're going to die soon._

Another face.

_Oh, you? Oh yeah…I better get rid of you…_

Another one.

…_.What scum. Should I even waste a bullet on you?_

I was having too much fun, so I had to mentally stop myself. No. I couldn't judge them _all_ now….I had to save them for the big event. Soon, Adam will be avenged and I will cleanse this tainted earth of these immoral people.

Soon.

As soon as school let out, I told my disbelieving wrestling team that practice was canceled today. They didn't question me, but instead, pranced around whooping like lunatics. Hmm…Did I _really_ work them _that_ hard during practice?

Without a second thought, I left them and walked out of school and into town. I passed by the normal, average side of town and cautiously walked into the more…run-down side until I reached my destination. A battered sign swung back and forth, swayed the wind.

_GUNS AND GHOULS FROM THE GYRE_

Gingerly, I pushed open the door, and inside, ghastly people inside were looking at guns, buying guns, or shooting guns, laughing like maniacs whenever they hit the center.

"Hello?" a relatively old man called out, wiping his face with a greasy rag. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, yes." I said, walking inside, mindful of the filthy floors and unwashed windows. I forced my distaste downwards and replied. "I was told that you offer shooting lessons here?"

The man raised his eyebrows. "I suppose so, but…we've never really had any new customers. Just old-timers." He gestured to the people inside. "Nonetheless, if you really want, I can teach you."

"That would be great." I nodded.

"How old are you again?" he asked.

Oh. It was time to show exactly _how_ illegitimate this place remained. "That doesn't matter. I have money, though, if you're interested." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. The old man eyed it.

"…I'm pretty sure you're not _at least_ eighteen, but…whatever. Come this way." He nonchalantly took the money, pocketed it, and led me towards the shooting range without a second thought. He asked me to take out my gun, assuming I had one, and didn't say anything more or less about it. Sketchy indeed.

The instructor began to drone on and on about maintaining guns, safety, and technique, but I wasn't really paying much attention, as I had been blissfully imagining the targets shaped with human likeness ahead of me as some of those names from Adam's list.

"Hey!" the instructor said, poking me to get my attention. "Are you paying attention?" I sighed and turned away from the targets. "I suppose. You just aim and shoot, right?"

Like I said, this was a sketchy place. In any other official shooting range, the administrators would have probably explained everything again with a scowl upon their face. But this instructor in _this_ shooting range? He merely shrugged and nodded tersely. "Oh, hell. I suppose so. So, why not give it a go?"

"Aim." He said, stepping back so I could focus a bit and aim. So, I raised my gun towards the human targets, pictured one of those corrupt people as it, and aimed.

"Shoot." The grisly instructor said, rubbing his stubbly beard with one hand and gesturing with to the other hand towards the target.

With a crazed grin lazily stretched across my face, I fired the gun.

It wasn't anything dramatic, as no clichéd movie explosions or hardcore music blared in the background, but _it was so exhilarating._

Lowering the gun, I glanced at the target. A hole had been punctured through the lower left stomach of the target. Not bad. I mean, that wouldn't really _kill_ a person in a second, but they would still die, assuming no one would be there to help them as they bled out. I could work with this and practice later to make my aim accurately deadly.

But that _feeling_! Oh, that thrilling feeling!

Whenever I aimed and shot at those human silhouettes propped up against the wall and imagined that it was one of the people from Adam's list, a new sense of power surged through me. I loved it….I loved this new ability…I loved this ability to decide of a person lived or died.

To hold a gun in one's hand is to _command_ and _radiate_ power, but to actually fire this gun is to _demonstrate_ and _exert_ that _power _and evoke _fear._

And it only took one bullet.

Just one bullet.

Just _one_ bullet.

Just one of these slugs placed correctly would _kill_ someone. I relished in the fact that only I would decide to put one of these things into someone…Would people beg for their lives like dogs when they saw me point a gun at them?

I think they would…I'm pretty sure all of my classmate would beg. I know that type…They would beg for their lives without any shame…all for the prospect of self-preservation.

In the end, all that begging would have been for nothing. Because. When I see those ugly hearts and twisted souls begging for mercy at my feet while I point a weapon at their face, I would never let them live.

It's just that simple.

For Adam and all the people like him out there, I would kill them all.

Leave none alive.

Take none with me when I ascend.

Show no mercy.

All will be dead.

First pick a few off with a gun. Then explode them.

And now, after taking these few classes and practicing, I could aim….I could shoot….I had a gun…I have my SEMTEX…and I could _kill them now._

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A/N: This chapter is a bit repetitive, but it's alright for now...Oh! And thank you SO much to all those who nominated my previous story in the Profiler's Choice Awards! It made it to the official ballot! Voting officially begins in a week or two, but thank you so much! I really appreciate it! :)


	7. Chapter 7: Suffering

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

**WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Suffering

It was time to build this bomb.

I had thought about researching a more direct phrase, 'how to make a bomb,' but if the government was watching my search history, then, well…that wouldn't be good. Discreetly, though, I researched the properties of SEMTEX and began to understand a bit of how it works and how it destroys.

Apparently, bombs work on a broad range of sophistication, as explosives are used for crude destruction of things such as buildings in construction sights while the more nasty but classier bombs exploded with a simple phone call to a phone connected to it.

I suppose a bomb set off by a phone would be more convenient, as if any thing ever impeded my progress in that moment, I could just quickly set it off. And why not set the phone to receive calls from 911? Oh, yes. If a trembling person ever got a hold of my phone and tried to call 911, then the whole place would go up. That would be quite clever.

True enough, though, converting SEMTEX into a workable and structured bomb was quite difficult. One wrong move could just end everything now, and remembering which wires connected to each other was confusing to keep track of. Was it blue to red? Yellow to blue? Red to yellow? Creating this device of death required a lot of focus, patience, and caution.

Eventually, I finally created a testable version with a dramatically decreased amount of SEMTEX utilized.

In order to try and test it, I bought a cheap, disposable phone and connected it accordingly to the trial bomb and headed down to the more run-down side of town again. There, I found a secluded, abandoned building next to a little shabby coffee shop. Stealthily, I snuck into the abandoned building, deposited the bomb in there somewhere and headed to the coffee shop.

I slid into the counters and ordered some water. Eagerly, I dialed the number to explode the bomb. A few seconds went by…Oh. Did I somehow mess u—? Never mind. The explosion burst and shattered the filthy windows as brilliant flames danced before my eyes across the streets.

Oh, yes. How could _God_ be imperfect? Of course the bomb would work. The panicking people inside the coffee shop, though, quickly dialed the police. It was time to get out of here.

On my way home, a fleeting thought raced across my mind…If the people were to suffer for what they did during their final moments before they violently died and especially before I sent them to hell, wouldn't I want to make those last moments…a bit more cruel?

And so, when I got home, I decided to attach a large number of nails around the final bomb I would make for the main event. So, when the bomb exploded, not only would shrapnel impale the bodies of the panicked and screaming, but also nails as well.

They deserved it anyways.

Imagine that. These people are cowering at my feet, gazing upon the bodies of the already fallen and the bullet holes on them. They are probably crying over the spilled blood and what else could go wrong? A bomb. With nails attached.

I smiled to myself at the thought of all that _torture_ and _suffering_ they would face.

They _deserved_ it.

Finally, when I got home, I immediately started fabricating the final bomb and added _much more_ SEMTEX to it then the trial bomb. Oh, imagine that explosion! Imagine the roaring flames consuming everyone! Imagine all that well- deserved death!

But, as I was cheerfully and most carefully putting together the final pieces of the bomb, though, a horrible thought raced across my mind, souring my previous elation.

Because then….I thought of the _family_ I was going to _leave behind_ after this whole event passed…

Mom.

Dad.

_Brandon._

It is always sad to leave your family behind…. whether if it's for college or even starting a new life with that person you love after you get married.

It's just hard, and it is just part of our human nature to miss them _so much_. It's only natural, though. I've lived with my mom, dad, and little Brandon all my life. Of course now would be the time I am going to miss them the most.

But, I can't take them all with me into heaven. That's got to be some rule. No favoritism. It still kills me, though, knowing that I've left a devastated mother whose son had finally been improving, a shattered father who raised me since forever and watched me grow up under his care, and especially… a _heart-broken brother_….

Oh Brandon…

Little Brandon. _My_ brother. _My _friend. _My_ Brandon. And, he was so small! Would he remember me when he would grow older? Would he hate me for leaving him behind? Would he…Would he be able to move on after I'm gone? It killed me to think I would be doing this to him and my family.

When I would be gone…

Who was going to teach Brandon how to play sports like wrestling? Who was going to help Brandon with homework if he needed assistance? And, most importantly, who was going to make sure that he would be okay and answer all the questions he has about life and guide him through?

I mean, parents are great, but there are just some things that you just _can't_ tell them.

Oh, WHY?

To tell if someone is truly devoted in a cause, just look at all the things they are sacrificing for it. Just look at the wonderful family I am sacrificing to fulfill my purpose.

In the end, I would have to do this. I could shoot now, I was almost done with my bomb, and I had the godly powers to do this all.

I had to, despite this tremendous sacrifice, keep going on.

But when this is all done, I will be watching him. Them. All from up there beyond the clouds and looking after them.

But in the end, I will be so, so sorry I left them behind.

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A/N: I plan to wrap this story up by the end of the month, so there should be about...three chapters left! Also, thanks to you lovely people, my other story _Inside the Minds: Jeremy Sayer_ has been nominated at the Profiler's Choice CM Awards. The voting ballot has been released, so if you really did truly enjoy the story and have a few free spare minutes of time, please vote for it! :)


	8. Chapter 8: Warning

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

**WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Warning

Hmm…I suppose an unexpected and surprise total mass destruction and bloodshed would probably induce massive panic attacks and hyperventilation amongst these dull students…Since Gods are not only known for their occasional violent wrath, but also mercy, what if I posted my plans online? That way, since my school would see it, they would at least acknowledge that their end was coming.

I should refrain from posting my list, though. Those people might not show up if they know their end is inevitable. And if they were not there, then all this meticulous planning would have been for nothing. I _wanted_ to see them cower before their true God. I _wanted_ to gaze upon their horror-stricken countenance and witness their bodies quivering with absolute terror. I wanted to see them _suffer_.

And most importantly, I wanted them _dead._

Nonetheless, I might as well just post the blue prints I artfully fabricated and the notes I carefully took about the bomb that would tear apart the school. The more…unintelligent might not exactly get its significance, but the smarter ones would. The only thing that would be unclear would be exactly _when _I planned to use this bomb and on _whom._

That way, no one would be able to run away from their inevitable and most certainly eternal damnation. And, in order to completely maximize the number of vic—… No. They are not victims because they terrorized others. The only thing they would be victims of is their corruption and vile deeds. It is sad to see people subject to terrible treatment, but it is pitiful to see the people _who oppress _and witness their cruelty. And mostly, it is sad to see their hatred consume them and manifest itself in the terrible acts of harassment.

Their behavior is inexcusable, and they had no right to do such things to innocent people. And _that_ is why they must go. The earth must be cleansed and purged of _these_ types of people.

But basically, in order to increase the number of the corrupt that were to be judged and violently exterminated, then why not hold the event on Halloween? Yes…In order to go to the school dance later that day, all students had to be present at school.

Halloween.

That's tomorrow….And it's so soon…

Just think. Tomorrow, Adam will be avenged. Tomorrow, some people will suffer the punishment and death they rightly deserved. And tomorrow, _I_ will show off my true Godly self and when this whole business is taken care of, I will ascend into heaven and look after the world from afar.

And so, I posted the blueprints online, fairly giving every doomed person an adequate warning for Halloween while dreamily looking forward to the event. Satisfied, I leaned back and waited for those terrified comments and the overall shock. It was understandable, I guess…They _were_ getting _shot_ at and _blown_ up, after all.

Within the hour, though, the comments towards these blueprints did not amuse me at all. Jay O'Brien posted the first comment. _The hell is this? Have you been hanging around too many nerds now, Slade? _

I suppose that was expected. Jay was one of the more…_unintelligent_ students at school. It's an absolute _wonder_ how I used to be friends with him.

Though, a few minutes later, Natalie Gallo posted a comment. _I don't get it. Is that your application to some engineering program or something? What is this?_

…And I thought that she was supposed to be a bit smart. I guess I was wrong…But even if the mildly intelligent people could not understand this, then how did I expect anyone else to understand it? …I guess I should just come right out and say it. I wanted to _see _this terror and panic while reading the black letters sprawled across the screen written by my frightened peers. So, I simple wrote…_It's a blueprint. For a bomb._

A few moments later, Brad wrote a simple comment. _Oh, that's cool! Is that for our school science fair?_

Oh, Brad….Simple-minded Brad…Brad was always an encouraging optimist. He refused to believe in the negative sides of life even if it meant filtering out the terrible THINGS, and actually, I often wondered why he was in Adam's list. He was too nice. However, he was still _on that list_ for a reason. But perhaps, I'll spare him a bit of torture and grant him a quick death.

Soon after, a stream of comments were posted either congratulating me on starting early for the science fair or still depicting confusion. Growing increasingly annoyed and not at all amused by the second, I posted a final comment:

_It's a bomb. And it's going to blow up. Soon._

In absolute disgust, I watched as the prospect of terror faded as more and more comments illustrated the disbelief and ignorance of the students.

_Oh, that's cool…_

_Hey, are you interning with a construction company?_

_I'm pretty sure that's illegal. _

_No way…That's never going to happen. _

_Dude the cops are going to be all over that. No way._

_You're not even smart enough to build such a thing._

I laughed at the last one, though. They underestimated my perfection and flawless mind. I was smart…_Beyond smart_. After all, I was so _above_ these inferior peasants. But, these idiots were so _blind_ and unwilling to _believe_.

Nobody believed me.

Nobody believed _God._

…Such _fools!_ Did they not know that most of them would perish by the end tomorrow and spend the rest of eternity in _hell_ after I would send them there? Did they not know that Adam's torment, among countless others like him, would be avenged? Did they not know that the _end of time itself_ was coming, and I, their God, would judge them all and decree if they would live or die?

_Fools_.

Everything happens tomorrow.

_Everything._

Tomorrow, it was time to reveal my true form to them, judge them, and then destroy this corrupt high school with fire and blood.


	9. Chapter 9: Good-Bye

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

**WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone.**

* * *

Chapter 9: Good-Bye

Today is the day.

Today, people are going to die. Cruel people. Corrupt people. People from Adam's list. People from Lewis' list. Just…people in general, I guess. And, it will be all by my doing.

Some will die as a single bullet pierces them and violently rips away their life. Some of them will die after I set off that bomb. It makes no difference in how they die because in the end, they will sent to where they _truly_ belong and suffer for their crimes against innocent people on earth like Adam.

Hell.

_That's_ where I would put them _all._

But afterwards, I would have to leave this mortal body and reveal my true form.

God.

I imagine the angels waiting for me in heaven would be quite pleased to see me. I wonder what it would be like….Blissfully, I imagine that a brilliant white light would envelop me and send me into a beautiful place far above the clouds and human comprehension.

Unfortunately, before that can happen, I have to…_leave_ my family back on earth. I have to _leave_ my Dad. I have to _leave _my Mom. And….I have to _leave Brandon._

My family.

I am sorry.

But I have to.

Perhaps they'll understand one day. Perhaps they won't. Nonetheless, they would have to cope with life without me. And that's hard enough. I know that because I had to go through several weeks of life without _Adam _before finding my true, new purpose to life.

Still, those weeks alone were complete _hell_ on earth. It was terrible, living life with a person missing by your side. It was terrible, making jokes and looking around for that person to laugh, but only seeing no one there... It was terrible just…just _existing_ without their presence.

I understood what that feeling felt like, and I could only hope my family could deal with that feeling. I was lucky enough to find my true self and my true purpose, but I don't know how my family could carry on.

The least I could do was at least simply say…_good-bye._

So, in the morning, I got dressed, and carefully placed the bomb inside my backpack along with the needed phones. I paused, searching for the handgun. When I found it, I picked it up and felt its familiar grip mold into the palm of my hand before placing it inside as well. Swinging my red, worn backpack over my shoulder, I then walked to the mirror in my room. Hmm…Normally, I wouldn't care whether or not my hair looked messy or neat, but today was a big day, and Gods should look their best.

So, I combed my hair a bit before heading downstairs. There, I found Dad sitting at the kitchen counter reading a newspaper while sipping his coffee. _Thank goodness. _Yesterday, his plane had been delayed, and I didn't know whether or not he would get home soon enough from his meeting for me to say good-bye.

"Dad…" I said, struggling to keep my voice free of emotion, though my countenance darkened with unspoken sorrow.

He looked up, scanned my face, and placed his newspaper down before beckoning me to come closer.

"Oh, Randy….My son…My _boy..._Tell me. What's wrong? No. Don't give me that look. I know something's wrong."

Oh, Dad. _My_ dad. Even though he had to fly around the world for the majority of my life for work, he was _always_ there at important points of my life. I remember him rushing in from the airport, tugging his suitcase behind him with his hair all ruffled because he didn't want to miss my birthday. I remember that he once cancelled an important meeting in order to go see one of my wrestling matches. I remember…that he was _there._ For me.

And now. I would have to leave him behind.

"Dad…_Daddy…_I just wanted to say that I love you. Thank you….._Thank you_ for being there…._I love you.._"

That was…simple enough, right? Simple and to the point. Dad hated wordy speeches, letters….and anything wordy. But, he took this in quietly.

"That's it?" he asked quietly. I nodded fervently.

"I…just wanted to tell you that before I left…for school." I said.

"Well, then…Uh…I love you, too, son….Now, go to school and make me proud!" he beamed and leaned forward to hug me. I gratefully hugged him tightly and remembered countless times I fell asleep like this when I was little.

"I will…make you proud." I stood up and slid a smile on my face.

He waved, and turned back to his newspaper.

"Oh, and do you know where Mom is?" I asked.

"Oh, you just missed her!" he said, looking back. "She went out to buy some milk since we ran out…She'll be back in half an hour or so."

No…._No._ I wouldn't be able to say good-bye in person….I wouldn't be able to hug her again and see her smile again….._No…._I mean, I suppose I could just call her before the event, but I _wanted _to _hug_ her and _see_ her before I had to go.

No.

But then, I remembered that upstairs, Brandon was still there, and my throat clenched with unspeakable emotion. I don't want to leave him behind. I don't want to leave _anyone of them_ behind. But, I have to. I _must_. See these sacrifices? In the end, I hope this Godly status will all be worth it.

I crept up the stairs, forcing tears back and slowly opened the door to Brandon's room.

"Randy! Good morning!" Brandon's face beamed as he sat up from his bed, groggy from sleep. I moved to sit down next to him and ruffled his mussed up hair.

"_Brandon_…" I began. "Hi."

Brandon nodded and rubbed his eyes.

"So…I just want to say...I _love you_, kiddo." I began.

"Aw! I love you too, Randy!" Brandon smiled.

He was simply….such a _loving, innocent kid_. The world needed more people like _him_ and less of the people I would shortly be sending to hell.

"Okay. So. You know how I said I was going to teach you how to….how to wrestle…a-and drive someday? And help you with homework?" I continued. "Sometimes, we have to think of the possibility that I'm not going to _be there_ and help you with those things…Sometimes…these things just _happen._ And unfortunately, fate has a funny way of giving us exactly what we don't need….And I _need_ to watch you grow up, Brandon, and be there_ every day_ for _you_. What I _don't need_ is to watch you…but from some place else. And that's hard…Oh, that's so_ hard._"

I looked at him, and he was quiet, just silently taking in everything I said as he looked at me with his wide eyes. Swallowing hard, I continued on.

"Yeah…There's a possibility of that happening, and if that happens, I am _so sorry_….I am so sorry that I won't be there for you even though I want to be there _so much…_Oh! And if that happens and you forget some things that I said because you're young and all that, then at least remember one thing: Remember….that you are loved. Remember that, okay? Will you do that? And remember, Brandon…I_ love you._"

With that sentiment, I smiled weakly at Brandon, not even bother to brush away the tears that had escaped from my eyes.

This is _so hard…_

Brandon blinked and hugged me tightly around my waist. I scooped him up and wrapped my arms around him for a bit, and we just stayed there, hearing each other breathe and feeling each others warmth.

Finally, Brandon squirmed out of my grasp and turned to look at me.

"Okay! I will remember that! And, I love you, too. But, I have to go change now, so….I'll talk to you later?" He grinned and ran out of the room while I watched him leave.

_I'll talk to you later?_ No. Unfortunately…._no._ That would be our last conversation… That would be the last time I hugged him. And, that would be the last time I would see him in this mortal form….

I just stayed there, though, for a moment longer, and finally brushed away a few stray tears, fighting to take control of my emotions. Gods can't show any weakness.

_Think of something else._

_Think of something else. _

_Think of something else…because this is too hard right now…_

I finally shifted my thoughts and focused on my plans, which immediately hardened my heart. I felt my lips curl up in disgust as I thought of those _bullies_ that forced Adam to end his own life. Soon…_Soon._ They would receive exactly what they _deserved_.

I stood up, looked around the house one last time, and before walking outside, I paused and slipped the complete list of names in one of Brandon's favorite books in his bookshelf. I had looked at those names too much, and so, they were imprinted on my head. I didn't need it anymore, and it was more important that if there was even a _chance_ that somehow I would not succeed, though those odds are slim, perhaps Brandon could help when he's older and get rid of them _all_. I couldn't take that chance of anyone escaping punishment….._No survivors._

Sighing, I finally walked around my house one last time, looking at all the framed photographs on the wall and memorizing every aspect of this building I had come to call my home in my time in this mortal form.

And, with a heavy heart but a mind filled with purpose, I purposefully strode out my earthly house, looking back a bit, and marched on to school.


	10. Chapter 10: The End

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. At all.**

**WARNING: This chapter and mostly all the chapters following this have certainly blasphemous material. I am not making fun of God or anyone's God or faith. Randy Slade believed he was God, so I must write him that way. I am sorry if this offends anyone.**

* * *

Chapter 10: The End.

I couldn't wait until lunchtime to move ahead with the plan. Mostly everyone on the list sat in the cafeteria in groups, so it would be easier to get rid of everyone there. But, for the most part, the morning dragged on and on and on. Teachers noticed that I wasn't paying attention and class, commented on it, and said no more. Others whispered about some sort of a psychotically determined look upon my face.

Whatever.

Finally, the second bell rang for the day, and I immediately took out my phone to call mom. I dialed her number and waited. _Please pick up…Please pick up_. Finally, on the fifth ring, I let out a sigh of relief as my mom picked up.

"Randy?" she said. "Why are you calling me in school? Oh, and Dad said you were looking for me earlier today. Is everything alright?"

I swallowed. "Hey, Mom. Listen. To make this short, I just want to say that I love you, and though I know that sometimes we don't agree on certain things, thank you for making me a better person….The person I am today."

Mom was silent on the end.

"Are you feeling well? Are you depressed today or something?" she asked, obviously noticing something was wrong. Moms always notice these things, don't they?

"It…It's nothing. Just…thanks for looking after me so well these years. Love you mommy." I continued, longing for a final embrace with her that I could never have.

"Oh…I love you, too, Randy. I hope you're okay. Now, have a great day and do great things!" I could hear her try to sound positive for my sake. Oh, Mom.

I hung up, frozen for a bit, then forced my emotions down. Hey. I can't cry right now. I was about to go kill some people, for goodness' sake.

I stuffed the phone in my pocket, unzipped my backpack and pulled out the bomb, placed it on the table, and grabbed my handgun.

Scanning the crowd, I looked on in grim anticipation.

_Who should I kill first?_

Then, Natalie Gallo strode by, carrying her lunch. She was on the list. She had to go. Hm. No one has even noticed the gun, but that soon changed. I took aim, and basked in the fact that I was no longer shooting at targets. I was shooting at a real _person._

And then, I shot.

I watched with satisfaction as Natalie crumpled immediately, her food spilling everywhere. Screams erupted, and fingers started pointing. I grinned crazily, surprised at the lack of remorse I felt.

The judgment has started.

But then, Brad stood up shakily, obviously shocked at the terrible event his compassionate heart just witnessed.

"Randy! What are you doing!" he demanded.

I sighed. Oh, Brad. Simple Brad. Let's grant you a quick death, shall we? So, I cocked my head and quickly shot him, feeling strangely excited when his body crumpled on the ground, provoking further screams and fright.

Shaking my head to clear these excessive thoughts, I growled and snapped at Jerry, cowering under a table nearby, and demanded him to go close and lock the doors of the cafeteria. He whimpered and immediately ran to do so when I waved the gun in his face.

Now, let's get down to business.

I yelled, silencing the whole cafeteria.

"SILENCE!"

And, silence fell.

"EVERYBODY LIE DOWN ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!"

It was important for there to be order in this time.

I strutted around, enjoying the visible shudder people would experience when they heard me around them.

"Now, most of you may know that I have been a bit….distant. Some called me a nerd. Others opted for more offensive terms that I will not repeat. It's true, though. I did change. For the better. But, all of you _stupid idiots_ really don't know, don't you? I am so much _better_ than you. You're _filled_ with corruption…hate…and prejudice. And guess who you took it out on! People like Adam! And look where he is now. Dead. That's right. _You_ lot did that. And guess what! I'm here to return the favor! Because I am God, and only I shall decide whether or not you live or die!" I yelled across the silently panicking cafeteria.

"Now, who's first?"

I glanced over at the sprawled, quivering bodies. Oh yeah…There was Jay O'Brien sniveling under a desk. Now who looks tough? There was Tucker Cranwell, openly crying…Oh! Look! It's Allison over there! The top of Adam's list!

"Allison!" I beamed and strode over to her. She shook, frozen with fright, and tried to inch away.

"Hey…Allison. Can you or are you brave enough to look in my eyes? To match the gaze of a God?" I taunted.

It was all simple. In myths, people died or spontaneously combusted while looking upon the gloriously magnificent forms of the Greek Gods. So, if they couldn't look into my eyes and see the light of the burning passion and wrath of a God and face their sins, then, well…They would just have to go. If they did meet my gaze, however, then something was wrong…That would mean that I am not God. But, I know I am, so….yes. Nothing to worry about…

Allison cried a bit and yelled back. "Go away! I don't want to! Just leave me alone! Just leave us alone! Don't kill any more of us!"

"Oh dear….You can't look at God? You can't look at me and relive all the sins you've committed?"

I raised my gun, and for the third time today, I shot a human. Adrenaline rushed in my veins as I watched Allison's body become motionless and stained with blood.

And then, I realized…I loved that feeling. Oh, that glorious feeling! This was amazing…I could choose exactly who lived and who died! That power was so magnificent…

I stood up, grinning maniacally and enjoying myself, I gazed around, and in exasperation, I saw Mary huddled under the table with her eyes closed and her hand clasped.

"Mary…Are you praying right now?" I drawled, lazily striding towards her.

She squeaked, but continued to intensify her prayers.

"Oh, silly you!" I laughed. "Why are you praying to that God? I'M the only one you need to pray to."

What blasphemy.

_BAM!_

Another shot rang through the air causing more waves of hysteria to pass through the crowd.

Ah…Oh, I don't think I will ever get tired of that feeling. I mean, a person's life depended on a simple decision. I could choose to let them live. Or die….What a wonderful power to have! What an important decision to make!

Finally, I looked again at the crowd and gazed upon a shaking, scrawny kid sitting at a desk.

"Oh. It's you." I sneered disgustedly looking at the next student as my heart raced with all the adrenaline and excitement within me.

It was _Robert. _

Robert was quite worthless, and it was common knowledge to everyone that he was absolutely useless and unhelpful to everyone. He wasn't exceedingly mean, and he wasn't extraordinarily beneficial to the human race. He was just…_there._ Originally, he Lewis added him on his list, but I soon came to agree with that decision.

Snarling, I said, "You know what? You're not even worth one of these bullets, Robert. But, still. Can you look God in the eye?"

Robert ignored the insult, and for a second, I thought I would have to waste another bullet, as he sat there, motionless for a few moments with his eyes trained on the floor. But then, he took a deep breath, and defied me.

And, Robert dared to turn slowly and looked me straight in the eyes.

No.

_No._

NO.

NO!

I screamed and stalked around the cafeteria, scaring more and more people. People hugged their bodies and shrank back when they heard my angry footsteps around them. In this fit of fury, I kicked chairs around and screeched, tearing at my hair and punching at the wall.

NO!

He could look at me! That was impossible! THAT WAS IMPOSSIBLE! How…How could he? I am _God._ People can't just look at Gods! And yet, he _did._ My mind began to unravel further as it replayed the cautious yet determined gaze Robert returned.

NO!

I ended my fit as my chest heaved up and down, as I was spent and out of breath from my short rampage.

This was not okay. This. Was. Not. Okay…All of these months and all of my energy had been spent planning everything meticulously and daydreaming of what it would be like to look after the world in heaven. And it only took three seconds for a person to look at me…to look at their _God_, and all of those dreams rapidly dissolved.

Does this mean….I'm _ordinary?_ I'm just….average? _Mortal?_ It can't be…IT CAN'T BE! But, my teachers! The priest! MY MOM! They said I was NEARLY PERFECT! GODLIKE! AND THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE! …I put everything I had into becoming God. There's no way I can go back now. NO.

I am God….

I am God….

I am God.

Right?

No. I am God. I am! I AM! I HAVE TO BE!

In a moment of an absent mind and unconscious thoughts, I impulsively dialed those damned numbers.

_911._

_This is for you, Adam. Finally, you are avenged._

Oh yes. Now, I would…I would ascend into heaven. Yes. I would. And, it was time to leave with a bang. Let everyone know who I really am once again.

"I AM GOD!"

And in that split second before havoc was unleashed, the fog in my mind cleared for a split second, and for a fleeting moment, I felt truly scared.

Why?

Because. I realized…that I. Don't. Want. To. Die.

I. Don't. Want. To. Die.

Because, in that last beautiful moment of life, I realized that I was not going to be reunited with Adam who was not going to lead me into heaven. I realized that, hell, there were no angels waiting for me in the light, singing praises. Nope. I realized, finally, that no spot was waiting for me in heaven, and I certainly had no power over _anyone_.

Why?

Because, as the nails impaled themselves onto me as the bomb exploded, shrapnel piercing the air combined with screams…screams of terror and fright, I realized something before the _darkness_, not light, consumed me:

I. AM. NOT. GOD.

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A/N: And..it's done. Hopefully the ending wasn't too rushed, though. But, for my next and upcoming fic, an Irish serial killer will base his deluded killings on Jonathan Swift's satirical work, _A Modest Proposal._ I am quite excited about this, so look for it soon!


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